


The Natural Order

by SouthSideStory



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey's plan is simple. She'll learn from Kylo Ren, and she'll do what has to be done to gain his trust, until she gets what she needs from him: information on her family. Who her parents are, whether they're alive or dead, and where to find them. Then she'll leave. How, exactly, Rey isn't certain, but she has time to figure that out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is Kylo Ren’s first impression of his new apprentice: Rey looks wiry and strong, if too thin, her skin sun-browned by the hot desert sun. She’s perhaps seventeen, neither plain nor beautiful. Just a poor, scavenger girl from a backwater planet with a lineage more remarkable than she is.

“What do you want with me?” Rey asks. She’s trying to appear defiant, he thinks, but she sounds more afraid than anything.

“To teach you,” Kylo says. He approaches, closing the space between man and girl. To her credit, she doesn’t step back. “My master believes you will be strong in the Force.”

Rey frowns. “Me? But I’m no one.”

“Hardly.” Kylo smirks behind his mask. “You’re the granddaughter of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Her hazel eyes go wide. Even on a planet as behind as Jakku she must have heard of that Jedi Master.

“You know about my family?” Rey asks, voice breathless.

She’s desperate to hear more. He can feel it in the Force that moves within and around her. Kylo doesn’t even have to probe her mind to know that she’s a lonely creature, abandoned and starved of love; it’s written all over her face.

“Prove yourself to be a worthy and loyal apprentice, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he promises.

Rey looks at him with such hunger, so needful, clearly craving the truth of her origins.

_I have her now_ , Kylo thinks. _She’ll do whatever I ask._

* * *

It’s difficult for Rey to believe that just yesterday she was taken from Niima Outpost, dragged onto a shuttle by stormtroopers, and delivered to Kylo Ren. So much has changed already that it feels like a different life.

She’s been given spare but comfortable quarters on Kylo’s ship, the _Scion_ , far finer than the scavenged shell of a home she had on Jakku. Still, she misses her doll and the small knick-knacks she’d gathered over the years.

Someone took her weathered clothes while she showered and left her an outfit all of black, which she puts on a little warily. Rey has to admit that the clothes are well made, but even so, she feels like she’s wearing a costume, playing a part. And in a way, she is.

Her plan is simple. She’ll learn from Kylo Ren, and she’ll do what has to be done to gain his trust, until she gets what she needs from him: information on her family. Who her parents are, whether they’re alive or dead, and where to find them. Then she’ll leave. How, exactly, Rey isn’t certain, but she has time to figure that out.

Kylo enters her room without knocking. By the tilt of his mask she thinks he may be looking her up and down. When he speaks, his voice is distorted by the modulator, but easy enough to understand. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes,” he says. “Come with me.”

She hurries after him, heart beating hard and fast. “Where are we?” Rey asks.

“A temple on Ruati,” Kylo says. “This is where the Supreme Leader first trained me. I thought it would be an appropriate place to begin your own education.”

Rey has to hold back a gasp when she steps off the ship. Everything is so _green_ , the trees and the bushes and the grass beneath her feet. She almost says something about it, but she doesn’t want to give Kylo any further reason to see her as an untraveled, ignorant scavenger.

The temple is a Sith ruin that has been reappropriated for their purposes, he tells her. Fixed with contemporary amenities and rebuilt in places. Rey puts her hand on the rough wall, tan skin against red stone, and traces the characters of a foreign language etched there. Then she follows Kylo inside.

To her surprise, he tells his crew to stay aboard the _Scion_. Only Rey and Kylo keep quarters in the temple itself, and he orders his soldiers not to disturb them for anything short of an emergency.

She meets Kylo at the heart of the temple for her first lesson the next morning. He’s dressed all in black, same as she is, still wearing his mask. Rey wonders what he looks like beneath it, what his voice sounds like without the distortion of the modulator. He is a foreign creature to her, faceless and frightening. Something not-quite (or perhaps greater than) human.

“What do you know of the Force?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Rey says, a little embarrassed.

“I’ll begin with the basics then.” Kylo explains what the Force is—an energy that connects every living thing in the galaxy—which can be used by individuals sensitive to its presence.

“Like you,” Rey says.

“Like _us_ ,” Kylo corrects. “There are two aspects of the Force: the light and the dark. The Jedi used to say that the dark side corrupts you, that it violates the universe’s natural order, but this is a backwards way of thinking. Embracing the dark means embracing what is natural, not disregarding it. Anger and fear, for example; these things are a part of us. But the light demands that you reject your aggression, that you abandon your hatred. If anything, it’s the light side that works against the natural order of things, not the dark.”

He goes on, and the longer he speaks, the greater his presence in the room seems to grow. A coldness permeates the chamber, ominous and potent, coming off of Kylo Ren in waves. _This is the dark_ , Rey thinks. It scares her, the raw power he exudes—but there’s something exciting about it too.

* * *

Kylo quickly has to adjust his assessment of his apprentice. She’s every bit as strong as her bloodline would suggest, not outmatched by her lineage at all. Their spars don’t yet challenge him, but he expects that within a few short years that they will. Rey moves with the grace and precision of a practiced fighter, adept with her stave, and it makes him wonder how often she had to defend herself, alone on Jakku.

“When will I get a lightsaber?” Rey asks.

“When you’re ready,” Kylo says.

She doesn’t seem to much like his answer.

_Good_. That impatience and frustration will fuel her anger, make her stronger, draw her closer to the dark.

Weeks pass, then months. Kylo turns twenty-nine in the secluded temple with no company to keep besides Rey’s. That isn’t much different from the life he’s led for the last fourteen years, though. Isolated, dedicated to following the Supreme Leader’s orders—no matter what they may be.

She hates him, he thinks, but is smart enough not to show it. Rey may despise him, but he can see her wary interest in the dark side growing every day. She finds his lessons enticing and empowering despite herself.

After their next sparring session, Rey wipes her sweaty hair out of her face and asks, “Why do you always wear that mask?”

_What are you hiding?_ she means.

Instead of answering, Kylo approaches her, puts his gloved fingers beneath her chin, and tilts her face up toward the light. She’s more girl than woman still, no more than eighteen, but there’s something about her that captures his attention, demands it even. Rey glances down, away from his gaze.

“It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. “Being looked at so closely.”

She nods, eyes still trained on his boots.

Kylo releases her, steps backward, and says, “Get your dinner and rest. We’ll spar again at dawn.”

* * *

Life at the temple is monotonous and rigid, yet Rey remains engaged. Kylo may be many things, but no one could accuse the man of being boring. He’s a demanding instructor who never tolerates laziness, and his mercurial moods make him difficult to predict. Some days he’s a calm and not unkind teacher; other times he scoffs, impatient and rude as he corrects her mistakes. And when Kylo speaks she can’t help but listen, drawn in by the deep cadence of his voice.

The more time they spend together, the more easily she can feel his presence. He can be on the other side of the temple and Rey will still sense his energy—sinister, formidable, cold, but strangely seductive. She wants to draw nearer to him, like a moth to a flame, to better feel the power he exudes.

It’s strange, really, that she’s lived so closely with this man for almost a year, and yet she knows next to nothing about Kylo Ren. Has never even seen his face.

Curiosity gets the better of her one night, and Rey sneaks across the temple to the chamber she knows Kylo has claimed for his own. She waits until well past midnight in the hopes that she might catch him asleep. Luck is with her—his door is unlocked, and the hinges make no noise when she opens it. Rey slips inside of Kylo’s room and approaches the bed, quiet and light-footed as a shadow. Just one look, that’s all she wants (needs).

He lies on his side, curled up in an oddly child-like manner. His hair is dark, she sees, a little unkempt, but it appears soft, and Rey has to suppress the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. She has only a moment to gather herself before Kylo is sitting bolt upright, saber ignited in his hand. He holds it a few scant inches from her throat, and she can feel the incredible heat of the unstable plasma blade against her skin.

His features are bathed in red light, and Rey can see him properly for the first time. Kylo has dark eyes, intense and luminous; a long, narrow face; a prominent nose and a wide mouth, full and soft. He looks vulnerable, almost sorrowful. She doesn’t know what she expected, but this isn’t it.

Kylo lowers his lightsaber. A moment later the red beams disappear entirely, and the room is plunged back into darkness.

“Are you satisfied?” he asks, and she almost jumps at his natural voice. It’s still deep, resonant, but without the modulator’s mechanical interference she can better appreciate the sound.

“No,” she says, because in truth, she’s far from satisfied. Kylo isn’t especially good-looking in the traditional way, at least, but she couldn’t care less about this. Rey finds him alluring, handsome, and she thinks she could look at his face every day for the rest of her life and that still wouldn’t be enough.

As her eyes adjust to the sterling light of Ruati’s twin moons, Rey’s gaze drifts below his neck, and she realizes that he’s not wearing a shirt. She’s struck by the breadth of his shoulders, how strong his stomach looks, the muscles of his bare arms. Without thinking, Rey reaches out and presses her hand to his chest. His skin feels so warm, flushed beneath her palm. Kylo takes in a sharp breath when her fingers trail down his stomach, tracing the line of black hair just below his navel—

He catches her by the wrist, firmly but not ungently, and says, “Go back to your room.” He sounds hoarse, as if this order is difficult to give.

His grip on her, growing tighter by the second, sends a thrill through Rey. He’s touching her, and she didn’t realize until this moment that she’s been craving this for a long time.

They’ve both been starved of physical contact for years, she suspects. That’s what accounts for the warmth pooling in her belly now, she tells herself. It’s not _him_ that makes her weak and wanting. It’s just the act of touching, the feeling of another person’s skin on her own.

Kylo releases her, and Rey steps away from him, turns around, and returns to her room.

Once in bed, she tosses and turns, unable to sleep despite the hour. She can’t stop thinking about the strength of his grip. The way his dark eyes reflected the red light of his saber, mirror-like. And his strong body, so subtly defined, lean but broad-shouldered. Rey can’t help it, she imagines him on top of her, caging her against the bed. That generous mouth kissing her, one of those large hands slipping between her legs and easing the ache there. Half-ashamed and furtive, she touches herself and pretends it’s Kylo.

* * *

Things have been different between him and Rey since the night she intruded on his privacy and caught him half-naked in his bed. Since she looked on him with the kind of hunger only a fool could mistake for anything but desire. There’s an unaddressed tension between them now, fraught with possibilities.

Except that Kylo refuses to acknowledge any of this potential. She’s too young, and his apprentice besides. Taking her to bed would be a mistake.

And he has no experience in these matters. Kylo lived the Jedi initiate life throughout his early adolescence, and his ascetic practices were too ingrained to abandon by the time he joined Snoke. Besides, he’s had no time and little inclination to exercise his baser passions—until now.

Kylo pushes away that thought and searches out Rey. He can feel her presence—warm, comforting, overwhelming in its pure energy—outside of the temple.

He finds her lying in the grass, eyes closed, looking so at peace that he hates to disturb her.

“Rey,” he says. “I have a new lesson for you.”

She sits up slowly, stretches, then stands. “What is it?”

Kylo feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He’s been putting off this particular exercise for weeks, but it’s past time that he showed her how to probe another person’s mind.

Of all the painful and rigorous training that Snoke put him through, this was by far the worst of it, and Kylo finds that he doesn’t want to do the same to Rey.

_She makes me weak. Pulls me toward compassion, toward the light._

He explains the purpose of the lesson, and Rey’s gold-flecked eyes widen. “You’re going to read my mind?” she asks.

“Yes.” Kylo closes the space between them, until he’s looming over her. “The first memories that will surface are those which you most want to hide. Your natural response will be to fight it, but the more you resist, the more painful it will be,” he warns. “Do you understand?”

Rey nods, clearly nervous but determined. “I’m ready,” she says.

Kylo cups her cheek with his gloved hand. Touch isn’t strictly necessary, but it helps forge the initial link.

He reaches out with his mind, pushes into hers, and he’s flooded with images and feelings. Rey crying herself to sleep, alone in the darkness. Sand dunes all around, the sun beating down on her skin, and she’s so thirsty, so hungry, she can barely stand. Loneliness, solitude, isolation. These are the things she experiences, every day that she marks with a scratch on the metal wall of her home.

Then Kylo sees her fleeing his room, going back to her own bed, but she can’t sleep. Her mind is too full of _him_ , and she reaches between her legs, touches herself, moaning softly into the shadows—

“Stop it!” Rey shouts.

He wants to see more, to watch her climax with his name on her lips, but Kylo withdraws his mind from hers.

Rey slumps against him, eyes shut tight, and grips the front of his robes. “You didn’t have to look at that,” she whispers against his chest. “It’s private.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Kylo says. His voice comes out so thick that it’s noticeable even through his mask’s modulator.

“My head hurts,” she says, “and I feel faint…”

Kylo catches Rey just as she collapses, then lifts her, bridal style. She’s still so slender, so light in his arms, that she’s no burden at all. He carries her to her room, lies her on the bed. Because she’ll never know of it, he takes off his right glove and touches her soft cheek.

_Weak_ , he thinks again. _That’s what she makes me._

* * *

Rey practices her mental probing on Kylo’s crew. They don’t dare refuse their master’s order to submit to her, but doing it makes her stomach twist. She hates violating the autonomy of someone else’s mind, extracting secrets and fears for the sake of practice. She does it, though, because she’ll never get her family’s location from him until she proves her worth.

Sparring goes better. Rey is still learning how to channel her anger into her fighting, but the more she duels Kylo, the easier it becomes to draw upon her aggression.

They’ve been at the temple for just over a year when he finally deems her ready for a lightsaber. He gifts her with a kyber crystal, colorless and beautiful. Rey builds herself a saberstaff, and when she ignites it the double blades glow red, much like Kylo’s. Except, where his lightsaber carries the frenetic energy of a storm, all power without restraint, the plasma blades of Rey’s saberstaff are clean, perfect, precise.

Kylo tells her about Darth Maul, the last Sith to carry a saberstaff, who was defeated in battle by none other than her own grandfather, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Will you tell me about my family now?” Rey asks.

“No,” Kylo says flatly. “You haven’t proven your loyalty, and I don’t trust you.”

“I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me,” she says. Rey tries to keep the impatience out of her voice, but she isn’t entirely successful.

Kylo steps nearer, invading her space. “I haven’t asked much of you yet.”

Rey wants to look into his dark eyes and hear the true, undistorted timbre of his voice. She wishes he would take off his mask. He won’t, though. He never does.

* * *

The Supreme Leader says it’s time to conclude Rey’s training, at least for now. There are many matters that require Kylo Ren’s attention, and he can’t afford to continue brushing them aside for his apprentice.

Snoke says this as if training Obi-Wan’s granddaughter was Kylo’s idea and not his own.

“We’re leaving Ruati tomorrow,” he tells Rey.

She nods, then returns to the texts on Sith philosophy that he told her to read.

Much later, during the twilight hour between night and morning, Kylo wakes to the soft sound of footsteps. It’s Rey, wearing a black tunic that falls to the middle of her thighs. She lingers beside his bed for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll refuse her again.

Kylo says nothing.

Rey gets into bed beside him, reaches up and caresses his face. He can’t help but lean into her touch, savoring the contact. She guides him down, to lie on top of her, and Kylo settles himself between her open legs.

“Rey,” he whispers, breathless, a heartbeat before she kisses him.

Her lips are soft against his, and she tastes of sleep and wine. He kisses her back roughly, hungrily, and groans into her mouth.

When they break apart for breath, Kylo looks down at her—chestnut hair loose around her shoulders, lips red and love-swollen—and he’s never wanted anything the way he wants her right now.

Rey slips her hand into his pants, draws his cock out, and strokes him. She’s a little too gentle, a bit clumsy, but it still feels so much better than when he does this himself. Kylo puts his hand around hers and shows her the best pressure and pace, how to grip him just right. As with most things, Rey is a fast learner, and soon he’s thrusting into her touch, his rhythm erratic and eager. He wants this to last longer, but it feels too impossibly good for him to hold on. She sucks at his throat, abusing the tender flesh there with her teeth and tongue, and that’s all it takes to make him come.

Kylo collapses beside her, unmindful of the mess she’s made of him, feeling sated.

Rey curls up next to him, wraps an arm around his waist, and asks quietly, “Do you trust me now?”

Suddenly the warmth and sweetness of the moment dissipates. Kylo understands that, although she wants him, Rey didn’t come to his bed purely out of desire. She also came to seduce information out of him.

_Finding her family_ , he thinks bitterly. _It’s all she cares about._

“No,” Kylo says coolly. “I don’t.”

Rey frowns at him, sits up , and makes to leave the bed, but he catches her by the arm and pulls her against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. “I’m not done with you yet.”

If she truly wants to leave, he’ll let her go, of course, but Kylo suspects that Rey wants some excuse to stay. He must be right, because she pulls her shirt over her head, baring her small, pert breasts.

“Take off your underwear too,” he orders.

She blushes, a pink flush coloring her bronze skin, but she removes her panties all the same. Rey is still kneeling before him when Kylo puts his hand between her legs. He eases two fingers inside her and tells her how tight she is, how wet, just to watch the rosiness of her cheeks redden further. He thrusts his fingers in and out of her, again and again, until she’s moaning and shaking, kissing his mouth sloppily, begging him to do it harder, faster.

When she comes, Rey cries his name, and in that moment, Kylo doesn’t care what her intentions were when she climbed into his bed. She’s his now, and he’s hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey accompanies Kylo to an interrogation. Some of Hux’s stormtroopers managed to capture a high-ranking Resistance officer named Tesha Surranei, a middle-aged woman who, even after hours of torture, still carries herself like a queen. She hasn’t given up any information, and Rey can’t help but respect her for this.

“Watch carefully,” Kylo tells her, “because the next one will be your responsibility.”

He speaks to Tesha for a moment, extending the opportunity to give up her comrades voluntarily. She refuses, and then he begins.

The interrogation can’t last more than a minute, but to Rey it feels far longer. Tesha’s screams echo off the metal panels of the walls as Kylo probes her mind. It isn’t anything like the mental invasion Rey experienced at his hands months ago. She realizes, now, how careful he had been with her that day. How gentle.

There is nothing gentle about this.

After it’s over Kylo reports his findings to Snoke.

Rey doesn’t bother going to her own chamber. Half the stormtroopers on Starkiller Base already suspect that she shares Kylo’s bed. What does it matter if someone sees her entering his room?

She takes a shower, then dresses in one of Kylo’s older tunics, its faded fabric now closer to grey than black. The shirt is soft and warm, and it smells vaguely of him.

Rey lies on Kylo’s bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying not to think of anything, but it’s impossible. She can’t stop seeing Tesha’s interrogation, can’t keep from hearing her cries.

He said the next one would be hers, but Rey isn’t sure she’s capable of inflicting that kind of pain on another person.

_If I’m not useful, I’ll never find out what happened to my family_ , she reminds herself. _And Snoke might have me killed._

Perhaps Kylo would carry out the order. He may desire her, might even have some kind of affection for her, but he’s dedicated his life to the Supreme Leader. If Snoke told him to kill her, Rey imagines that he’d snuff out her life in an instant.

* * *

Kylo finds Rey lounging in his bed, dressed in a shirt that has seen better days. He removes his mask and sets it on a table, and she immediately meets his eyes, her expression now hungry. Rey loves to look on his face, and if he’s honest with himself, Kylo knows that he enjoys it too. For some reason it feels good to be exposed before her. He decides not to examine why that may be.

He undresses and joins Rey in bed. They’re quick and ungentle this time. She scores her nails along his back when he kisses his way down her body, pulls his hair when he puts his mouth between her long legs. Later, he holds onto her tightly, fingers digging into her shoulder while she works her mouth up and down on him.

After it’s over he can still feel the sting of scratch marks on his skin, and a pretty bruise blossoms blue where he gripped her. He kisses the place softly, a silent apology, even though he knows she doesn’t mind being marked. She’s told him often enough that she loves it when he’s rough with her.

They still haven’t taken the final step. They both want to, he’s sure, but neither of them has been brave enough to initiate it—yet.  

This has been going on for weeks now, and Kylo has no idea what any of it means to Rey. For his part, he feels a certain sense of possessiveness. She’s _his_ , and the thought of anyone else having her makes him livid.

There’s more to it, though. Rey’s presence comforts and calms him, and being with her brings him closer to contentment than he’s ever experienced before. In this regard, it doesn’t matter what name he carries—as Ben Solo, as Kylo Ren, he’s never known something like peace, until now.

They’re lying on their sides, facing each other, no more than a foot of space between them. Kylo reaches over and cups her cheek. Rey leans into his touch, so eager for contact, always.

He opens his mouth, a confession on the tip of his tongue, but either cowardice or common sense stops him from speaking.

“What were you going to say?” Rey asks.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing at all.”

The next morning, as he watches Rey sleep, Kylo realizes a simple, terrifying truth: he loves her. He knows this with a foreign kind of certainty. Usually he doubts his own feelings, questions his decisions long after they’re made, but not where Rey is concerned. He’s sure of this, sure of her.

But Kylo doesn’t know what to do with this knowledge. She doesn’t feel the same way, and when she discovers the truth about her family she may hate him. He’d intended to wait to tell Rey about her parents until she was too dedicated to himself and the Supreme Leader, too consumed by the dark, to care any longer about the mother and father who left her on Jakku. Now he thinks she may never give up on her family.

Then there are other complications to consider. Love is a weakness, and Rey already pulls him toward the light, whether she means to or not.

* * *

Her first interrogation is a disaster. It takes half an hour to extract the information she’s looking for because she tried to go as gently as she could. In the end, this only caused the Resistance soldier further trauma and extended his pain, because Rey had to use more and more force until she finally pried the necessary intel from his mind. She’d thought nothing could be crueler than Kylo’s methods, but she was wrong. Her own were worse.

Rey sits with her head in her hands, locked in her bedroom, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. This isn’t what she’d planned. She thought she’d have the information she sought by now. That she would be free of Snoke, of Kylo Ren. That she’d masquerade as a follower of the dark side until the moment she could escape, her true self in tact.

She realizes now how naive that was. The dark is insidious, and the longer she waits for the truth, the farther she falls into its grasp.

Worst of all, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to leave. That grows less and less interested in the past that’s so far behind and more concerned with her present. Her life alongside Kylo. He’s leading her into the shadows, step by step, but it doesn’t stop Rey from wanting him. He’s as seductive as the darkness itself, and despite her best efforts, she’s growing to care for him.

Sometimes she thinks he might feel the same way. He’ll look at her with such tenderness, touch her so gently, that even if he doesn’t say the words, she knows that she matters to him. But Kylo is still loyal to Snoke, and Rey is certain that if she displeases or disappoints the Supreme Leader, this fragile thing that’s developed between them will collapse.

One night, when they’re tangled up in bed together, sweaty and flushed, Kylo plays with a lock of her hair and asks, “Why do you care so much about finding your family?”

“You saw how I lived on Jakku,” Rey says. “Always hungry, always alone. The only thing that kept me going was thinking that someone would come back for me someday.”

“But they never did,” Kylo says. “So why should you care about them?”

Rey frowns and pulls the sheet up to cover her nakedness. “Are you saying they had no good reason to leave me behind? That nothing stopped them from returning for me?”

“I’m not saying anything about where they are, or why they didn’t come for you. I just want to understand you better.”

It surprises her, a little, that his motivation is both so simple and so personal. Somehow it feels even more intimate than the touches they traded earlier. He wants to know her.

Rey bites her lip. “What about you? Do you have a family?”

Kylo stiffens and says shortly, “No.”

This isn’t the truth. Rey can see it on his face. “You’re lying.”

The look he gives her is sharp, angry. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Rey asks. She isn’t sure why she’s pushing him, exactly.

“Because they’re my past,” Kylo says. “I was a different person then. That family belonged to the boy I was, not the man I am.”

This is the first time he’s ever even mentioned the life he had before he became Kylo Ren. She knows that isn’t his real name; all of the Knights of Ren were rechristened by Snoke once they came into his service. She’s wondered about his true name a thousand times, but Rey is certain he would never tell her.

As the weeks pass, Kylo continues to train her in the ways of the Force, to teach her how to embrace the dark side. Some lessons are more successful than others, and she can feel his frustration growing with her slow progress.

Today they have to sit through a strategy meeting with the high officers of the First Order. Rey barely listens, distracted by the sight of Kylo with his hands steepled, throwing out the occasional disparaging comment—usually directed at Hux. She tries not to smile, but it’s difficult, and she wonders whether he’s smirking at the general’s expense. There’s no way to know, of course, not when he’s wearing his helmet.

It never ceases to amaze her, the difference in Kylo when he’s unmasked. How much more human he appears when he isn’t hiding behind black durasteel. Rey loves him this way, seeing his emotions playing across his handsome face, the way his dark eyes follow her every movement. She feels like she’s privy to a secret when he reveals himself to her, as if she can glimpse a hint of the boy he used to be, before Snoke molded him into Kylo Ren.

Still, there’s a part of her that’s fascinated by him when he’s wearing the mask. The distorted tone of his deep voice, the mystery of his expression. When she’s forced to interpret his mood through body language, Rey notices the formidable way he carries himself, how he tilts his head as he examines something.

Kylo is strong, but when he removes his helmet he allows her to see his weaknesses too. She desires both: the boy who fights the light in himself, vulnerable and powerful all at once; and the man in the mask, always fierce, always commanding.

Now Rey watches him, listens to the cadence of voice, and by the time the meeting is over she’s so restless and wanting that she takes his hand, pulls him out of the war room, and pushes him into the nearest utility closet.

“What are you doing?” Kylo asks.

Rey pulls her shirt over her head, then her bra, unfastens her pants and steps out of them. She can feel him watching her through the mask, and it doesn’t surprise her when he turns her around, so that she’s facing the wall, and pushes her against it. He yanks her underwear down her hips, and they tangle somewhere above her knees, out of the way enough for him to slip a hand (now ungloved) between her legs and touch her.

She hears the sharp inhalation of his breath when he feels how wet she is, and then he’s thrusting two fingers inside of her, working her just the way she likes. Rey moans, pushes back against him and says his name, half-begging, because this is almost exactly what she needs. Almost, but not quite. It’s so good, but it’s not _enough_.

“I need you,” she whimpers. “I need you in me now.”

She hears the sound of rustling clothes as he frees himself from his pants, and then he’s turning her around again, lifting her into his arms, and pressing the blunt tip of his cock against her. Rey holds onto him, wraps her legs tightly around his waist. She wishes she could see his face right now, but he hasn’t bothered to take off his mask. As much as she’d like to kiss him, something about fucking him this way thrills her, makes her want it—want him—even more.

When he pushes his cock inside of her, it doesn’t hurt, not much, not the way she’s heard it can for some girls. There’s only a feeling of fullness, of being stretched to her limit, as her body accommodates his. Kylo rocks with her, slowly at first, his movements gentle, controlled. But then his rhythm grows rougher, more erratic, and every thrust sends a shock of pleasure through her.

“Rey,” he says, and even through the voice modulator she can hear how desperate he is.

It only lasts a few minutes more, just long enough for Rey to get close, to teeter on the edge of a climax without actually finding her release. Then Kylo is coming inside of her, shaking all over, and she’s never heard anything as beautiful as the choked gasp he makes.

Her sex aches, sore from the roughness of their fucking and throbbing with unfulfillment. When he sets her back on her feet, Rey’s legs tremble and almost buckle, and she has to grab him to keep from falling.

“Please,” she says. She doesn’t care how needy that sounds, because pride is a small thing to sacrifice in a moment like this.

Kylo touches her, those long fingers precise and punishing, slick with her wetness and his own come as he rubs slow circles against her tender flesh. Rey bucks against him, making the sort of shameful noises that ought to be embarrassing. Begging him to hurry up with it, to stop teasing her.

When she finally comes, it feels like shattering from head to toe. Like he’s broken her into pieces and made each portion his own.

* * *

Rey makes her first kills on their mission to Djavin, where they’re ambushed by five Resistance soldiers. Kylo beheads one, eviscerates another, and injures the third so grievously that he’ll die within the hour. When he turns around it’s to see Rey standing over two bodies, her saberstaff shaking in her hands. She drops the weapon, turns, and throws herself at him. Buries her face against his chest, crying quietly.

_She’s not made for this_ , he thinks. Darkness isn’t much in Rey’s nature, no matter that he’s led her down its path.

Kylo wraps his arms around her, providing whatever comfort he can through touch. “You did the right thing,” he says.

They return to the _Scion_ , and when the ship lands on the bay of the star destroyer, they immediately go to his quarters. Rey strips out of her clothes, turns to him, and says, “I’m taking a shower. Come with me.”

Kylo undresses and joins her under the spray of hot water. Everything feels close and warm, confined in a stall filled with steam. Rey clings to him, kisses him. He presses her against the tile wall and gives her what pleasure he can, hoping to distract her from the events of the day.

After they’ve dried one another off, she sits on the edge of the bed, naked, head in her hands. Rey stays this way for a long while, until she finally looks up at him and says, “Tell me where my family is.”

“You know I can’t answer that,” Kylo says. “Not yet.”

Rey stands, pushes him in the chest. “I’m not asking this time.”

Kylo feels a sharp pain behind his eyes, the sense of an intrusion in his mind, and before he can stop it, a flood of memories surface. Mother brushing his hair away from his face and saying, “It’s all right, Ben, your father will be home soon.” Killing the Jedi initiates at his uncle’s academy, consumed by fear and power in equal measure. Kissing Rey, holding her…

She takes a step backward, and the connection between their minds is broken.

“You—you love me?” Rey asks. She sounds half shocked and half afraid.

She probed his mind, saw things that were none of her concern, and now she has the gall to ask him this. “It doesn’t matter,” he says.

She steps closer, lifts her hand to his face, cups his cheek gently. “It matters to me.”

He leans into her, too eager for her touch to remain aloof. Kylo catches her wrist, kisses her palm, then the sensitive skin over her pulse point.

“Ben?” she asks, hesitant and unsure.

It hurts to hear her say his name, but the ache is strangely sweet.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Please.” Kylo doesn’t mean to beg, but he knows that if she calls him _Ben_ again it will weaken him.

“I can’t stay here,” Rey says. “This place, Snoke, the dark side—it’s killing me. And it’s killing you too.”

“What are you saying?” Kylo asks, frowning.

Rey takes a deep breath. “I’m leaving, and I want you to come with me.”

“Because I know where your family is?” Kylo asks, and he can’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She shakes her head. “No. Because you’re all I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He could ask, order, or beg her to stay, but Kylo knows nothing can stop Rey once she’s made up her mind to do something. Besides, there’s no future for her here. If she stays, the dark will destroy the Rey he’s come to love. It’s just a matter of time, and Kylo doesn’t think he can stand to let that happen.


End file.
